


Stiles' Drunken Love Confession

by sterekgotmelike



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon, Cats, Christmas, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Being Idiots, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Sick Stiles, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, derek takes care of him, drunk!Stiles, shopping together, they don't realize the domesticity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekgotmelike/pseuds/sterekgotmelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Stiles tells Derek he loves him without realizing he’s saying it and the one time he is very aware of his feelings and also very drunk. Also: a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It wasn't the food that made him say it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SourWolfie (pieprincess_andthe_fallenangel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieprincess_andthe_fallenangel/gifts), [Alba55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alba55/gifts).



> Some things I'd like you to know:
> 
> 1\. HI! I'M SAB.
> 
> 2\. This is my first story I am posting on here (I'm use to the watt-pad formatting so bare with me.
> 
> 3\. I accept feedback, anything you think will help me be a better writer
> 
> ABOUT THE FIC (Please read):
> 
> This is fiction so many of the things in here are made up (eg. I have no clue if Berkeley offers classes. I tried to look into it but couldn't find anything.
> 
> Enjoy the sterek-ness :)

It’s via Scott’s text that Stiles finds out about Derek’s new apartment. To say the least, he is _psyched_ and really happy for Derek. Safe housing is a monumental step in the right direction and away from the moldy boxcar he used to live in; it is especially when things have started to calm down in Beacon Hills and Derek has every reason to move on. Stiles remembers the tension practically rolling off of Derek’s shoulders when he sold the Hale house to a nice family with three children. The man has been through hell more than two times; everyone in the pack agrees the Alpha deserves stability.

Stiles buzzes into the apartment building and takes three steps at a time. He sees – almost knocks over – Isaac first, who is carrying a box into Derek’s new apartment. He sees more figures in the apartment, which he knows belong to Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd (“Call me _Boyd_ ”), Scott McCall, Allison Argent and Kira Yukimura. Cora, Derek's younger sister, is in New York, boxing up their past life along with Laura's belongings so that she can settle down close to Derek in Beacon Hills as well. 

“Dude, this place is _so_ going to be the new den,” Stiles gapes at the living room walls, “Seriously, are you kidding me? Is this even an apartment? This place is huge.” Stiles blindly runs into another body, too busy scanning the space.

“How many times do I have to tell you stop calling me _dude_?” The gruff voice can only belong to Derek, who is faintly smiling when Stiles meets his face. It’s a new development, the friendship between Stiles and Derek. It was definitely strange at first, trying to get use to the shy smiles, invasion of personal space, and just the everyday conversation. Now, Stiles can say it’s a comfort; it’s pretty hard to imagine his daily routine without Derek, or any of the pack members for that matter. Derek is slowly letting down his walls, like a snake shedding its skin for a new one. In Derek's case, it's recalling his happy self from the past but also growing as a person and learning from all that has happened. And he  _is_ _trying so hard_ , Stiles has definitely observed it.

“You’ll have to tell me for the rest of my life because I will _never_ stop calling you _dude,_ dude,” Stiles emphasizes with a grin and pat to his chest, which _wow,_ is really nice to feel, like top quality padding.

“I know,” Derek rolls his eyes and gives him a quick hug, because that is also a thing that he has started doing with all the pack members. Scott has explained to him that touch is important to werewolves because it shows affection and care. Stiles would have been surprised to hear this three years ago, when he thought that Derek was socially inept and devoid of emotions. Stiles realizes now that it was all out of personal security and defense. It was the same wall he had put up when his family wasn’t there by his side.

“After you two have had your wonderful reunion, do you mind if we start the meeting? I have somewhere more important to be,” And _that_ would be the ever-loving Lydia Martin. Stiles thought he was in love when he had first seen her on the elementary school playground, sitting on the swing with poise, as a queen would on her throne. Boy, was he wrong. He learned that they were much better as best friends. And _that,_ they are. Plus, Stiles figured that asking Danny if he was attracted to him meant that _he_ himself was attracted to guys. He’s so thankful that his dad was so accepting when he told him much.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Milady,” Stiles bows his head down then walks over for an embrace, squeezing her as he does. When Stiles lets go, he looks back to Derek, who is looking fond and confused at once. Only Derek Hale can manage that look.

“Come on, Alpha,” Stiles snickers at the squinty eyes that Derek gives him.

They all gather in the extra room, passing Derek’s room on the way. Stiles takes notice of the lack of furniture and the floor air-mattress. _What happened to the one at the loft?_ Stiles definitely plans on having a talk with Derek later about buying new furniture and _a bed_ , for Pete’s sake; sleeping on a blow-up mattress cannot be comfortable.

They’re all sitting on the empty, yet-to-be-carpeted floor when Scott, the other Alpha of the pack, leads the meeting off by announcing that he and Allison have also bought their own apartment, although not as big as Derek’s. Derek fails to hide the smile that he directs in Stiles’ direction. Stiles grins victoriously.

Isaac brings up school and voices erupt from all over. Stiles complains about the workload but happily agrees that college is better when you're living at home.

They continue the informal meeting by sharing what they did that week and if anyone has felt an upsurge of supernatural vibes. Derek jumps into the conversation, declaring that since Deucalion has been killed no other packs should come around. Unless the pack is passing by, it should be quiet. And the meeting ends at that because everyone actually has somewhere to be. They all walk out the door, chattering about how they're excited for the next game night.

Stiles takes this opportunity to corner Derek, not literally of course because hello, Alpha.

“Derek, have you thought about furnishing your crib? It looks bleak. I would say it reminds me of your soul but I know it’s all puppies and rainbows in there,” Stiles casually slides up onto the counter, next to where Derek is wiping down the dusty cupboards. Stiles pokes Derek’s side with his extended, socked toe. Derek huffs and whacks at Stiles’ foot, causing him to squeak in surprise.

“My crib?” Derek asks, simply

“Yes, Derek. Keep up. Your crib, your humble abode, tu casa, whatever you’re calling it,” Stiles crosses his arms defensively, like Derek’s remark is daft.

“I still have to go to the hardware store,” Derek shrugs, now stashing food onto the clean shelves.

“The _hardware_ store?” Stiles eyes go wide. You obviously don’t find furniture at the hardware store.

“Yes, Stiles. _Keep up_ ,” Derek raises his eyebrows and smirks, avoiding eye contact. That asshole, thinking he can give Stiles the taste of his own medicine. No, Stiles doesn’t think no.

“Hey! Don’t snide. That’s my job,” Stiles points with his pinky, arms still crossed. “Seriously, why the hardware store? Are you going to make your own furniture?”

“Yes, Stiles. I am,” Derek looks straight at him now, a scowl _graced_ on his face.

“No. I am not letting you make furniture for your apartment! Derek, why would you want to waste time on that? Why can’t you just buy furniture like a normal, non-brooding person?”

“I do not _brood._ Plus, I am not making all of it, just a bookshelf. Laura and I helped Dad make one for the house when we were little,” Derek flinches at his reply, as if he wasn’t expecting himself to reveal that information so easily.

“Oh,” Stiles nods and places his hand on Derek’s shoulder, trying to non-verbally tell him that it’s okay and he understands. And that maybe this time he'll let Derek do what he wants without being an intrusive idiot. 

Their conversation doesn’t go on, but Stiles stays up on the kitchen counter and watches Derek store cups and plates in the cupboards. Soon after he jumps down to help him.

~

Stiles doesn’t see any of the pack for two days because he has several assignments to do for the online classes he’s taking at UC Berkeley. Stiles talked to his dad about staying back for the pack and just to stay at home and they’d both agreed on Stiles taking online classes. Stiles still keeps telling John that he likes staying at home so that he can keep an eye on his old man and make sure he is following his diet. John smiles fondly at his son every time. He loves having him stay at home, Stiles knows it.

There’s a soft knock on the door to his room, which is odd because no one knocks on his door unless it’s his dad. But at the moment, Dad is at the Sheriff's station .

“Come in!” Stiles yells, eyes glued to his computer screen and fingers tying lazily.

“Hey,” Derek is at side and Stiles surprisingly doesn’t flail like he use to every time Derek would make an appearance.

“What’s up, dude?” Stiles asks, pauses writing his essay to look up at Derek; and he is totally scowling. A helpless laugh bubbles out of Stiles.

“My bad. Should I call you ‘Sourwolf’ instead?” Derek’s scowl deepens and Stiles laughs brightly again.

“Alright, alright. What’s up?” Stiles offers, spinning his chair towards him.

“Are you free?” Derek asks, standing awkwardly and fiddling with his car keys. Stiles hasn’t seen Derek ever behave like this. He seems so conscious about his movements. He almost seems _nervous._ Stiles feels his default instincts to pry and question his strange behavior but he tells himself that he is a grown up now. He needs to act like one in grown-up situations. Every situation with Derek has Stiles wanting to act silly and do silly things like a kid would, so acting like an adult in front of Derek is the hardest thing to do.

“For you, always. Need me to research something?” Stiles asks because he thinks there might be something going on, something _supernatural_.

“We’re going to the store,” Derek suddenly relaxes and grabs Stiles by his upper arm, making him stand up. Stiles smirks at Derek because he totally gets it. Derek wants him to go furniture shopping with him and he was too nervous to ask. Derek is totally puppies and rainbows.

~

They’re at _Mor Furniture for Less_ because Stiles suggests it’s the best place for “cool furniture.” He also points out that Derek needs to get so many fluffy blankets because if the pack is at the apartment, they’re going to want to be cozy. By Derek’s raised eyebrows, Stiles can tell that he knows that his concerned is about personal comfort. Derek chuckles lightly and heads towards the sofas and other living room furniture with Stiles following him, pointing out random “modern” furniture.

“What do you think about this?” They’ve been at the store for a few minutes and now, Stiles is standing in front of the biggest sofa he has ever seen, his chin between his thumb and pointer. “Derek?” He turns around and finds no Derek standing behind him. _Way to make me look like an idiot who talks to himself, Derek._ Stiles walks down three aisles before he ends at an open area where he sees Derek, who is eyeing cat trees with interest. What? The whole space is for cat furniture, Stiles finds out as he sees all the scratching posts and various types of cat towers and condos; because, cat condos are apparently a thing. Derek looks up and walks past Stiles, saying, “What were you showing me?”

“Uh- right, I was just looking at couches,” Stiles replies, thoroughly confused.

“What do you think?” Stiles presents the couch with both arms extended as if he’s a game-show hostesses. Derek sits on the sofa, adjusting the throw pillows, as he gets comfortable. And Stiles just gapes at the scene. It’s such a great thing to look at. It makes Derek look absolutely adorable; Stiles tries his best not to squeal like a five year old.

“Seems good to me. We can put an order on it, if you want,” Derek looks up as he stands.

“Awesome! I am so excited for pack meetings already,” Stiles jumps in excitement.

“You mean you weren’t before?” Derek is just trying to tease him, Stiles can tell. So, being the mature adult that he is, he sticks his tongue out.

“Come on, we’ve got shopping to do,” Stiles basically drags Derek to bedroom furniture, telling him that he doesn’t have time for Derek’s snootiness.

They find the bed sets next to a large selection of bedding. It’s a bit strange for Stiles to see Derek feeling blankets. Stiles brushes off the feelings and asks Derek if he sees a bed that will accommodate his werewolf body with care. Derek scoffs as he lays on one of the beds. He pats the space next to him. When Stiles doesn’t move, Derek cranes his neck up with a questioning look.

“It’s your bed, dude,” Stiles puts his hands up.

Derek yanks Stiles by his flannel shirt and he face-plants on the bed, “I don’t like being called ‘dude.’ And why do you think I brought you here?”

“Use your words, then,” Stiles exclaims and turns onto his back. Derek must be a bed whisperer because this is the softest and most comfortable one he has ever had the pleasure to lie on.

“I think you found the one,” Stiles whispers, twisting to Derek and then gracelessly smashing his face into the _plushiest_ pillow. “It feels so good. I am literally unable to move, I might need to be forklifted out of here.” Derek chuckles next to him and leaves.

“I’ll leave you two alone to bond,” Derek simply walks away. Stiles is about to throw the pillow at him, but that’s probably not considered proper store etiquette. He just settles on mumbling, “asshole,” knowing that the werewolf will hear him.

After an additional hour of choosing bedding, blankets, side tables and a smaller couch, which they call a _loveseat_ (Stiles blushes so hard when he reads the tag), they finally leave the store. Stiles is freaking out because their friendship just reached a level defined as “I know that you like white bed sheets.”

“I cannot believe you vetoed the Spiderman sheets. That was incredibly rude,” Stiles tries a joke to clear his fogged brain.

“I am sorry I don’t have the mind of a child,” Derek quips to which Stiles gasps in mock-offence. Derek rolls his eyes and tells him to close the car door so they can go back home.

“You’re grumpy today, you know?” Stiles pokes his bicep, “Everything okay?”

Derek shrugs, starting the engine, “Everything is great.” Stiles twists to looks at the side of Derek’s face and grins obnoxiously because he knows that it’s the first time in a long time Derek isn’t lying.

~

 _Screw this shit. I give up._ Stiles has had it with all the late-nights, finishing his assignments. He glances at the clock hanging above his desk and groans; it’s only six thirty. It’s getting dark sooner and sooner as the days fade out of October and into a much colder November. But, Stiles can’t handle looking at his computer for another minute so he pushes the heels of his palms onto his eyes. His eyes feel like they’ve been wiped dry with cotton and he’s pretty sure they’re bloodshot.

Stiles pulls out his phone and rolls down his contact list until he finds Derek’s number.

 

**I am sooo bored, dude**

 

**_Stiles, what do you want?_ **

**No assignments**

**_Don’t you want to graduate?_ **

**Funny man. But seriously, I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s sooo boring**

 

Derek doesn’t reply instantly so Stiles stows his phone away in a desk drawer. He really should finish his work; his deadline is at the end of the week. But, one nap couldn’t hurt, could it? Stiles thinks not, as he jumps on his bed and sprawls out on his stomach. And he nearly falls over when the door slams open. He peeks over his shoulder to see Derek.

“Derek,” Stiles elongates his name out of annoyance, groaning as he sits up. “I can’t shop anymore, I’ve dropped.”

“I’m not here to take you shopping,” Derek deadpans. “I’m here to make sure you do your work,” Derek clarifies, ruffling a bag of what looks like take-out from an Indian restaurant.

“Who put you up to this?” Stiles squints, standing to cross the room to his desk. “Was it Scotty?”

“I am capable of doing stuff by myself,” Derek says with a flat look. Stiles laughs loudly and asks why he did so. Derek tells him to sit down and do his work; that he will get the food once he has finished what he needs to for today.

“Pushy.”

Fortunately, he does finish the two assignments on the Mayans and the Aztecs. Even though it takes him an hour and a half, he feels proud. He is then allowed to eat dinner, Derek declares after actually checking that he did in fact complete his work.

“You are such a _dad,_ ” Stiles snatches a container out of Derek’s outstretched hand. Derek frowns slightly, shaking his head in disagreement. “No,” is all he says. A man of few words, Stiles can work with that.

“Dude! You brought samosas?” Stiles asks gleefully, totally surprised.

“I know you like them,” Derek admits, finally losing his leather jacket and exposing a green Henley. Derek’s eyes immediately look more defined. Stiles doesn’t remember them being so green. And oh, is that some blue and grey and _what even is that color_? Realizing that he’s openly staring into Derek Hale’s eyes, Stiles looks down at the bag of food. Derek understands the movement and tells him he also brought Paneer Masala because he’d liked it that last they all went to the local Indian restaurant.

Derek pulls out the rest of the boxes, one with rice, another one with some sort of vegetables, third one with the Paneer Masala and a last one with curry.

“Let’s eat this downstairs,” Derek begins to pile the boxes, holding them in one arm, the show-off that he is, and heads out of the room.

Stiles makes a plate for both of them while Derek is getting iced tea for Stiles and water for himself. Derek waits for Stiles to eat first with his eyebrows raised. _He’s talking with his eyebrows. I wonder if he’s aware of that._

“God, this is so good!” Stiles groans happily. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I, uh, I felt bad about this morning. I kind of ordered you to come with me. I didn’t really give you a choice. So, I’m sorry.” Derek says, so softly that it’s barely audible. Stiles stares at him and then suddenly breaks out into a smile.

“Aw, man, you don’t have to be sorry. I wouldn’t have come along if I didn’t want to. You can’t force me to do things; you can try but you _will_ fail,” Stiles says honestly, with a smile.

“I forgot that you’re still in college and you need to finish your work. That’s why I wanted to do this,” Derek says, shyly. Stiles whacks his arm, making Derek jolt up in an attentive position.

“That’s really thoughtful, it is. But, come on. We’re pack. I love you, man. I don’t mind doing things with you. Now that you don’t slam me into things, it’s quiet a pleasure, really,” Stiles grins but lets it fall when Derek freezes.

“Uh, okay. Thanks, I guess,” Derek says, slowly like he’s really thinking about what Stiles said and how to form a reply to it.

“Okay, so we’re good, right?” Stiles asks, piling more rice and vegetables onto his plate and biting into his third samosa. Derek is looking at him carefully before he nods his head with a twitch of his lips.

“God, this is delicious. We should do this more often,” Stiles suggests with hope.

Derek nods, more relaxed. “We should.”


	2. It wasn't the stuffy nose that made him say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets sick. Derek is a good caretaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be posting another chapter until after I'm done with my exams (Dec. 4th). Sorry :(
> 
> Hope you like this one, though.

The funny thing about routines is that people get used to them. Just like how Stiles gets use to being over at Derek’s apartment twice a week.

After Derek having brought Stiles food several times and helping–more threatening Stiles to complete his assignments–Stiles wanted to do something for Derek. But, he’s had no idea what to do for him. Derek is not someone who wears his heart on his sleeve; so figuring out what he likes is not an easy task. Although, just being around him, one can tell (Stiles can tell) that he enjoys spending time with people. Even if it’s with minimum conversation, Derek seems content to have his pack members at his place. Ultimately, Stiles starts to invade his apartment every Tuesday and Thursday even if it means he has to set his alarm two hours earlier than his normal wake-up time to finish his class work. Stiles finds it to be totally worth it.

“I think I’ll be happy if I spent the rest of my life here,” Stiles groans out from his place on Derek’s couch, which had finally arrived after two weeks and Stiles has been making the most of it. Stiles is currently nesting on it, covered in blankets with throw pillows encircling his body. Stiles is maybe over-exaggerating it, but it’s a pretty comfortable couch. He has the experience to back up his argument so, there's really no over-doing it anymore.

“I wonder why you like it so much,” Derek says half-heartedly, appearing from the kitchen.

“Hmmm… Because  _I_  helped you pick it out,” Stiles smiles, snuggling the blankets closer and around his neck so that his head is the only thing poking out. Derek chuckles softly at the scene. Stiles knows he probably looks ridiculous but it's worth the compromise because _fuzzy blankets_ , okay?

“What are you doing here anyway? I don’t remember inviting you over,” Derek smirks, looking proud of his reply. He's been saying this every damn time Stiles comes over, assuming he's funny. Stiles thinks otherwise.

“I am so going to start calling you  _snark_ wolf if you keep this up,” Stiles huffs. When Derek doesn’t argue back, he speaks again, “I thought we’d hang out, dude. We should have Taco Tuesdays!” Stiles jumps in his spot, causing pillows to fall to floor. Derek tells Stiles that he's such a klutz but his face says differently.

They end up having tacos anyway because Derek totally loves them. Another thing Stiles discovers about Derek is that he is super neurotic about washing the dishes right after dinner. Stiles, being the polite guest (except not really a guest), helps Derek wipe them dry as he always does. It’s quite peaceful actually, both of them working together like a machine 

They both take their own places on the couch, close to each other but not exactly touching. Stiles decides they should watch something on Netflix after he’s finished rubbing his belly. 

“What is a Netflix?” Derek questions, looking unhinged.

“Nooooo,” Stiles whines loudly, scrunching his whole face into his best look of disappointment. “This is worse than Scott not watching Star Wars!” Stiles throws his hands up in exasperation.

“I’ve seen Star Wars,” Derek crosses his arms, seeming to be offended. “We use to watch it every Christmas because Dad hated Christmas movies.”

“Way to go Derek’s dad,” Stiles nods approvingly and claps Derek on the shoulder. “Okay, get your socks on because I’m about to knock them off!” Stiles steals a glance down at Derek’s feet and he is in fact wearing socks, black ones. No surprise there. Derek looks down at his own feet, clearly missing the joke.

“I don’t get you teenagers,” Derek huffs.

“You are such an old man. I can already picture you whacking innocent teenagers with your cane,” Stiles laughs loudly, shaking his head fondly at Derek.

“I’m thinking about whacking you with a cane,” Derek mutters.

Stiles is about to comment, “kinky,” but lets it slide in favor of explaining and ordering Derek to get Netflix. Derek agrees and soon they are arguing over what to watch. Stiles is definitely not prepared for Derek’s knowledge of old movies. Apparently, Derek has a secret love for black and white movies, which Stiles can’t help but feel warm because his mother use to relish her Sundays with classic movies. Stiles is enlightened to know that like his mother, Derek likes Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers. It’s a minute piece of information but Stiles basks in the way Derek’s face turns soft from adoration when they watch  _Roberta_.

~

They’ve been watching the movie for maybe an hour when Stiles suddenly feels an odd urge for baking cookies. It seems like that feeling hasn’t come around since his mom passed, but now he wants to–really wants to bake cookies. He remembers how much fun Scott and he would have as kids, just goofing around while Claudia yelled at them to put the flour in the mixing bowl and  _not_ their hair.

“Derek? Do you have any cookie sheets?” Stiles turns to Derek so fast that he almost gets whiplash.

“Erica threatened me into buying some and bake her cookies,” Derek nods his head towards the kitchen as if he’s completely okay being forced by his betas. “Bottom cupboard by the oven.”

“Great! We’re baking cookies,” Stiles chirps happily, almost bouncing off into the kitchen. Derek sits on the couch, still absorbed in the movie. Stiles begins to round up all the ingredients anyway, letting Derek relive whatever he is. He doesn’t quite know if he can say childhood because although Stiles thinks it’s completely unfair, Derek didn’t really have one; let alone, a teenage-hood. Stiles makes it his goal to tell Derek that he’s there for him whenever or if he ever wants to talk about it.

When Stiles is about ready to beat the butter and sugar together until they’re “light and fluffy,” he hears the television click off and Derek saunters into the kitchen looking extremely happy. A trivial behavior of Derek that Stiles has picked up is the way he expresses emotions. Derek doesn’t smile very big or laugh very loud. Rather, he smiles a soft smile that reaches his eyes in every way. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because he’s holding back or he’s always been this way; what he does know is he likes that Derek is at least comfortable enough to show his emotions, even if it is sparsely. By now, Stiles can confirm that he has a special place in his brain marked  _Derek Trivia_ , which is right next to _Things that make Isaac smile_ ,  _Things that get Erica_ _feisty_ and  _Food that dad is banished from eating_.

“Want to help?” Stiles asks, taking his eyes away from whisking to look at Derek. Derek nods and walks over, taking his steps carefully. Stiles motions the whisk towards Derek, who takes it hesitantly. “It won’t bite you,” Stiles grins at him.

“Funny,” Derek scoffs, mixing the ingredients. Stiles keeps adding ingredients while Derek keeps up the steady stirring. Stiles is adding in the flour when it explodes into a cloud in front of his face, causing it fly onto the counter and into Stiles’ eyes. 

It’s a long two minutes when Derek remains frozen in his spot, eyes wide. Stiles blinks incessantly to try and get the flour out of his eyes because apparently, flour in the eyes is painful. Stiles sees a blurry Derek trying not to laugh. He closes his eyes immediately because it hurts to keep them open. 

“Laugh at my pain. Dude, not cool,” Stiles tries to whack Derek but only hits air. 

“Here,” Derek says and Stiles’ eyes open from the squint they were in. Derek is right in front of him with a wet rag, holding it out. Stiles steps closer instead and lets Derek wipe his face. He pulls Stiles to the tap and tells him to wash his eyes out; he does and man, does it feel good. The warm water gets most of the flour out and soon he’s blinking his eyes open like a baby would for the first time. 

“That went well,” Stiles huffs, now looking at the aftermath of the flour-explosion, which managed to cover the entire counter that’s supposed to be their workspace. 

“We can still finish these,” Derek offers, taking out more flour from its bag. Stiles nods when Derek looks up for confirmation. And thankfully, no other glitch occurs after that. They get the first batch of cookies in the oven and roll the rest of the dough into balls, as Derek tells Stiles that he’ll eat too many cookies after they’ve come out of the oven and will be too lazy to finish baking the rest. Stiles doesn’t even deny it because Derek is totally on track with that information. Food makes Stiles like a sleepy sloth. 

Stiles tries eating the cookie dough but Derek manages to smack his hand away every time. Later, he also slaps his hand away from eating the scorching cookies, fresh out of the oven. Stupid werewolf reflexes. 

It’s okay, though because Stiles still gets his cookies. Two batches, to be more precise. Stiles is thinking that it wasn’t his best idea. 

“I can’t locomote,” Stiles groans with a repetition of his earlier belly rubs while collapsed on the couch. Except this time, he takes up the entirety of it while Derek is throwing all the dough-covered bowls and other utensils in the sink. He doesn’t bother washing up after. Stiles assumes that the baking probably wore him out; even though, the assumption doesn’t line up with the whole “werewolf” thing. 

The last thing Stiles remembers before unwillingly passing out on Derek’s sofa is hearing Derek say, “That’s not a word, Stiles.” 

~ 

The luxurious feeling of lying on fluffy, cotton-clouds encompasses Stiles when he comes to. The effort of waking up or just opening his eyes seems meaningless at this point. Nonetheless, he peeks open one eye and the first thing he sees is Derek. It takes a few seconds for the realization to kick in: he’d accidentally fallen asleep at Derek Hale’s apartment last night and now he’s in Derek Hale’s bed with Derek Hale next to him  _in the bed_. It’s a bit overwhelming. The only thing stopping him from snapping up from his lying position is the down blanket. So, Stiles lies in bed, staring at Derek and having a moment of what can only be described as  _freaking out_. 

Stiles knows that Derek and he are just starting to move towards having a good friendship and so he feels oddly invasive of Derek’s space. It’s not everyday that he falls asleep at an almost-friend’s house. The only other house he’s been comfortable to freely pass out at is Scott’s. Stiles may be slightly worried that Derek still sees him as that annoying little brat who showed up at all the supernatural-crime scenes; just  _slightly_. 

Fortunately, the next thing to happen is Derek waking up, fluttering his eyes open. Derek twists his neck to face Stiles and blurts, “Your heart is racing. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Stiles takes a minute to contemplate telling Derek what’s really on his mind. “So, you’re okay with me falling asleep here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Derek turns onto his side with an adorably confused look. Like, it could throw Scott’s puppy dog eyes out of competition.

“I don’t know, man. Werewolves have a thing about space, I know because Erica nearly slashed my throat when I left some of my things at her and Boyd’s place.” Derek gives him yet another horribly confused look before telling Stiles that he’s stupid, which: rude. 

“Derek?” 

“Yes, Stiles I moved you up here and no, I did not take your pants off; you kicked them off the minute you got under the covers,” Derek answers his unasked question. 

“Good to know.”

They both get out of bed like turtles, mostly because Stiles refuses to move and Derek has to physically remove him. Stiles smiles to himself as he brushes his teeth in Derek’s bathroom provided with a spare brush. It’s nice, he thinks, Derek and he are totally going to be awesome friends soon. Stiles likes to think he’s the missing link between a human and bacterial fungus: once he starts growing on people, there’s no turning back for them. At least that’s what happened to Scott on the kindergarten playground; Stiles had followed him around while constantly talking about macaroni art and how it wasn’t a good idea to eat raw pasta.

Stiles heads to the kitchen and on the way, notices that his body feels weak and hurts a little bit. A good guess could be that it’s from sleeping a wrong way but it feels more like the first phase of a cold. When he feels a rush of coldness pass his stomach, he plants his butt on the kitchen table, rubbing his under his eyes furiously.

“Can you drive me home, Derek? Not feeling too good,” Stiles feels his forehead and yep, it’s definitely warmer than normal body temperature. Derek walks over from stove, looking like he was about to cook eggs. He feels Stiles’ forehead and nods slowly, “I don’t keep medicine around.” Which makes sense because of the unfair immunity that werewolves are gifted with. 

“It’s fine, we’ve got Advil at home.”  _Home_ , Stiles freezes up. “Shit! My dad. I forgot to text him.” Stiles feels around his jeans but remembers that he forgot his phone in his desk drawer at home. It's probably rotting there at this point.  _Dad is sooo going to kill me._  

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to steady his body from shaking. “I texted your dad last night that you were staying over.” Relief spreads through Stiles.

“Derek, you know how to text?” 

“Do you want to go home or not?”

 ~

Sheriff Stilinski greets Derek and Stiles with a smile when he opens the door to let them in. Stiles feels worse now, he can almost feel the congestion creeping up on him. He goes up to his bathroom to raid through his medicine cabinet like a mad man. Correction: a mad  _sick_ man. He finds the Advil and glugs it down with a cup of water. Additionally, just to be safe, he takes a capful of the gross strawberry flavored cough syrup. It instantly leaves a disgusting taste at the back of his throat but with that, also comes relief.

Ever since Stiles was a child, he’s been prone to get a cold whenever there’s a change in weather. Usually, he’s up to date with his medicine, taking it well before he can actually get sick. This time is different. The cold weather of mid-December does everything except make it better. 

From his bathroom, Stiles can hear hushed noises coming from downstairs. He doesn’t know why Derek stayed back to talk to his father. But, he is glad that John likes Derek these days. John had told Stiles that he had known the Hales and that they were sweet people; told Stiles that Derek was too little to know not to blame himself for the fire but he did; told Stiles that he worked so hard to get Kate behind bars and that he secretly knew all along that Derek didn’t kill Laura. Stiles definitely has the coolest dad. 

With that in mind, Stiles makes way to his bed and falls asleep the second he lies down, unbothered to pull the covers or adjust his pillow.

~

“Stiles,” is the first thing he hears when he wakes up. His dad is leaned over him, caressing his forehead. “Derek went out but will be back soon. I’ve got a shift at the station but I’ll be back in time for dinner, okay?” Stiles nods, smiling up at his dad.

“Love you, Pop,” Stiles whispers right when John reaches the door, closing his eyes once again.

“Love you, son. Get better,” John tells him and waits for Stiles to hum in response before he heads out.

When he hears the door click shut, Stiles opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. He feels better, more rested. But, his throat still has a tingly, scratchy feeling. And his nose, man, it’s totally clogged. So, he lies there, eyes open and takes deep breaths–puffs, rather–through his mouth. Being sick is the worst. 

He looks down at himself and sees that his body is covered now with the only blanket he has. This is when he totally wants to go back to Derek’s and hide himself in the fluffy blankets that usually lie on the couch. Stiles should really invest in one for those for himself.

It’s a bit like Stiles has a personal genie because at that second, Derek walks into his room, hands occupied with various things: one of them, a fluffy blanket.

“I love you so much,” Stiles croaks out, reaching for the blanket, which Derek hands to him.

“Your love for inanimate objects is strange, you know,” Derek quirks an eyebrow and makes room on the bed for himself to sit 

“It’s not romantic love, at least.” When Stiles tries laughing, it sounds sandpaper-y. And hurts just as much sandpaper would in his throat. 

Derek doesn’t reply. Instead, he starts to pull out things from a bag. Derek reminds Stiles so much of Mary Poppins as he’s pulling out two boxes of Kleenex, a take-out box, a bag of cough drops, a box-set of  _Psych_ , and several bottles of vitamin water. Stiles can’t help but chuckle, or at least chuckle as much as he can without being a danger to himself, as he starts to sit up.

It all happens silently: Derek places a bowl of hot soup in Stiles’ hands and brings Stiles’ laptop in bed, putting the first season of  _Psych_  in the disc slot. Huh, Derek learned how to use a computer­–kudos to him.

Stiles is left with little space when Derek climbs on the bed next to him, but is immediately leaning towards him. The body heat is nice and Derek is totally cuddlier than he looks to be. Stiles knew this all along.

The first episode is fifteen minutes in when Stiles realizes there’s still soup in his hands. He knows it will help his cold; he takes a big spoonful, and  _melts._ Damn, that is the best soup he has ever had. It’s got a slight kick to it but the vegetables are perfectly cooked and flavored that it almost hurts. 

“Derek Jeremiah Hale! Where did you get this from?” Stiles whisperingly shouts, expectant wide eyes on Derek. He swears he hears Derek mutter that ‘Jeremiah’ isn’t his middle name. It probably isn’t but Stiles is occupied with much bigger concerns right now.

“It’s from the diner in front of my apartment,  _Nate’s_ , it’s called.” Derek is still watching the show while Stiles just stares blankly at the scruff on Derek’s face.

“You only tell me  _now_  about this diner? I hope you feel guilty for personally offending me.” 

“We can go after you’re better. They have pancakes, too.” 

Stiles hums happily to himself, taking another spoonful of the heavenly concoction. They end up finishing four forty-minute long episodes of the first season without any more interruptions. It’s only until Stiles’ dad returns from the station that they get out of the room. 

Derek offers John help for cooking dinner. John accepts but regrets it when Derek doesn’t allow the frozen pizza. Derek ends up making a pretty decent meal consisting of a bean stew and vegetable stir-fry.

“Stiles told you about my diet, didn’t he?” John sparks the conversation when they’re seated at the dinner table. Derek nods his head slowly, handing Stiles another bottle of vitamin water when he sees the lack of one in his hands. “And you agreed with him?” Derek nods again. “That’s where you went wrong, son.”

“And that’s why I love Derek. He listens to me unlike my father, whom I want around for a long time,” Stiles interjects, pointing his fork at John. His dad is giving him an odd look, seeming to be surprised and confused. He sees his dad’s eyes travel to Derek, examining his face. Stiles eyes him too and Stiles is totally missing something. Is it wrong to care about your own father’s health?

Derek looks like he has a gun with wolfsbane bullets pointed at him, worried for his life or worried about _something_. John raises his eyebrows in question and Derek visibly swallows.

“Dad, you look like you are going to hull him like a strawberry, stop,” Stiles chews the stir-fry patiently. His dad looks at him and there’s an instant transformation in his face; he almost looks fond. Derek clears his throat loudly, shaking off the awkwardness that’s loitering the air. He gets up to clear his own plate and takes Stiles’ on the way.

When Derek is out of visual range, Stiles mouths angrily to his dad, “What was that?”

John replies, “You tell me, son.”

“What?” Stiles scrunches up his face because seriously:  _What?_

When Derek returns, Stiles restores his expression and shoots an easy smile, hopefully making him feel less uncomfortable. It does the trick. Stiles notices the way Derek’s shoulders relax. 

“I should go, it’s getting late,” Derek announces, picking his leather jacket off the back of the chair. Stiles nods and starts to get up when Derek places a hand at the back of his neck, “It’s okay, I can show myself out.” Derek smiles down at Stiles, which soothes him because that was certainly an unexpected turn of events. And certainly was an awkward ending of the dinner. 

Derek gives John a tight nod along with a small smile, thanking him for letting him stay for dinner.

“Bye, son. Don’t be stranger. We enjoy your company. And Stiles­– Stiles speaks very _highly_  of you,” John stands up to pat Derek’s back. “Come back again soon.”

“Bye, Derek. See at the Christmas party!” Stiles almost forgets about the Christmas party and that it’s only one and a half weeks away. Stiles turns back around to see his father smirking. Stiles is not exactly sure what part of the story he’s missing. He ends up thinking about the Christmas party anyway, excited to see his pack and his dad together on Christmas. He knows it’ll be good for all of them. Especially Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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